


Glowing Embers

by Magnolie



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Charles Being Concerned, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Erik Has Feelings, Erik is fixing things, Family, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), Sassy Raven, Westchester, everything but himself really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 16:46:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7060975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnolie/pseuds/Magnolie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>How do we move on from a shattered life? How do we rebuild bonds, trust and friendship? How do we go on, carrying those we have lost with us? There is no one right answer to these questions, but returning to those we love, endowing them with small acts of kindness and finding ways to fit in again is.</i><br/>Picks up right after the end of X-Men: Apocalypse and follows Erik, Charles, and the rest of their new-found family as fathers and sons grow closer and feelings that have long been forgotten slowly begin to bloom again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glowing Embers

**Author's Note:**

> It took me forever to finish this. I literally went through every sentence three times, imagining whether it was belivable or not and re-writing when I had to. But now I'm finally done, so many thanks to the amazing   
> [Tanja](http://lehnshark.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing this!

**Glowing Embers**   


**____________________________________**  
  
  


****  


At first he is really gone.

Charles waits for him in the evening to return – he doesn’t admit it to Hank or Raven, but he sits by the window until late, watching the front gardens, somewhat hopeful that Erik might walk towards the house at any time now. He is already asleep when Hank finds him and finally – and silently – carries him over to the bed.

The next morning he waits in the kitchen, then on the patio. He watches Jean and Scott sitting by the trees sharing some thoughts that he listens to for a while, until he feels awfully intrusive and wheels himself back into the house. At nightfall, he waits by the window again. He is reading, reading with a good view – at least that is what he tells himself.

School doesn’t start until another week has passed. They have collectively decided to give everyone enough time to recover and enjoy the warm days of spring. It will only be a few more weeks of classes then, until they will send them home to stay with their parents. Only all small group of students will remain in Westchester.   
Charles already dreads the silence it will bring to the house.

Raven comes and goes as she pleases, but at least she lets him know when she does. She always brings something. Sometimes it’s French macaroons, sometimes a keepsake from somewhere he has never been to and will most likely never go. She takes some duties over from Hank when she is home, and she likes the teaching. After a while she stays permanently.

“You need to let it go Charles,” she tells him more than once when she helps him into bed at night, “he’s not coming back.”

“I know,” Charles always replies. And at some point he stops. It tears his heart out, but he doesn’t admit it to anyone, let alone himself. Waiting will not make Erik magically appear at his front door, he knows he will have to accept that, but he isn’t there yet.

Apparently, domestic duties suit Raven – probably a contrast to what she is doing when she isn’t home. She starts a small project in the garden, alongside a few of the children and soon they have set up their own vegetable and herb farm. Nevertheless, whenever she gets too cosy, she leaves for a day or two, but she always returns.

June and the last day of school come much too quick. Almost everyone is gone by the end of the evening. It makes Charles happy that so many of the children return home to their parents over the summer, happy that they have managed to rebuild trust and forged bonds where once had only been disdain and anger. Each and every one of them says good-bye to him, and he gets to see most of the parents as well, who thank him and wish him the nicest summer.

“You must be relieved to get a little bit of rest,” so many say. He laughs and nods, secretly wishing everything would just carry on as usual and distract him.

Raven is home for the day and takes the remaining kids out for lunch and outdoor training. In the evening, it is only Jean, Kurt, Ororo, Jubilee and Peter who have remained with him. Charles encounters them on his way to the library; they are all sitting in the downstairs living room, chatting and giggling over jumbo-pizza and homemade lemonade.

“How was your day?” He asks his foster sister who is comfortably sitting on the floor next to Hank’s chair.

“I’m never going to lunch with these guys again,” she laughs and Charles catches Hank’s adoring smile and blush.

“Did the training go well?” Charles asks.

“We climbed up some of the big trees in the forest, “Jean says, “Well some of us did,” she smiles and kicks Kurt who is sitting in front of her chair on the floor.

Charles remains with them for another while, until he feels too tired and excuses himself. He hears them downstairs long after Hank has helped him into bed and for the first time there is so much in his head that he doesn’t think of Erik before he falls asleep. After that it gets easier for a while.

Until one summer morning Peter joins him and Raven for breakfast.

“I wanna know more about him,” is the only thing he says as he approaches them.

“Pardon me?” Charles has to ask, honestly confused and not yet perfectly awake, a bagel in hand.

“My father, Erik.”

Raven takes a deep breath and a long sip of coffee, looking at Charles.

“D-Do you have any specific questions?” Charles offers and Peter sits down opposite Raven.

“How did you meet?” The young man asks after a moment of thinking.

Charles blinks once of twice, letting out a long breath before he speaks.

“He was on a revenge mission and I stopped him,” he cuts the matter short.

“Was he …. was he always like this?”

“Oh well,” Raven mumbles and has to hide a grin, Charles gives her a look, silently pouring himself more breakfast tea. Peter scrutinizes him as the professor seems to gather the right words in his mind yet again.

“Your father has been through a lot in his life Peter, he’s endured more pain that anyone-“

“Sorry to bring it you, but he’s a prick, has been and always will be,” Raven interrupts, “He has his good days though,” she admits and glances at Charles, “mostly when _he’s_ around.”

“Raven please…” Charles sighs and looks at her, “It’s not that easy.”

“Oh give me break Charles,” she hisses before reaching for the newspaper and opening it in annoyance, “He’s only ever tolerable when you’re within reach.”

Charles huffs and rolls his eyes, staring at Raven, who simply shrugs. He never asked her what exactly had happened between them, and even though he is curious, he feels like she would never tell him.

Peter frowns and suddenly begins to stutter, “are you guys… like … I mean I don’t wanna cross any boundaries here Professor, but … you know, are you like… I mean…”

All of a sudden, Raven’s attention is back on Charles. “Yes Charles, do enlighten us,” she grins.

“We are old friends,” Charles answers plainly.

“That is most certainly the reason for why you wait for him by the window every night,” Raven huffs sarcastically.

“He could be getting himself into trouble, I’d prefer it if he was here with us, helping me to look after the kids instead of doing what … well, god knows what he’s doing,” he mumbles, gesturing with his right hand.

“Uhum,” Raven replies – again not lacking sarcasm, “Tell yourself that.”

Peter looks at them in confusion, maybe even less informed than he was before.

“I’m sorry we might not be of such great help Peter,” Charles sighs and Peter nods before he sits down and pours himself a cup of Raven’s coffee.

Nevertheless, it keeps bothering Charles. In the quiet of the evening hours he finally gives in to the soft, golden warmth around his heart that can be nothing else but the thought of Erik, and takes an old, leather-bound photo-album out of a shelve in his study before taking it to Peter’s room. He knocks on the door softly, watching Peter at his desk, toying with a Rubik’s Cube.

“I’ve got some pictures of your father,” Charles says as the young man turns around to him, “do you want to see them?”

Peter nods, “Yes, sure,” and Charles manoeuvres his chair to the desk. In the light of the evening sun, the photographs look even older, out of another, happier time.

“Raven and Hank took most of them in the sixties when we first lived here one summer,” Charles carefully goes through the pages, “that’s your father right there.”

Peter is surprised to see the picture of a young man in a white shirt and black trousers, standing next to a young Hank and two other men Peter doesn’t know. They are all looking at each other except Erik, who is grinning brightly into the camera.

“He looks so full of mischief.” Peter sarcastically comments.

“Oh he was, threw one of our kids down the satellite dish so he’d learn how to use his powers,” the professor laughs.

“What is this?” Peter asks and points at another picture.

“Oh that was taken on the lawn behind the house; I actually think I took it…” Charles takes the picture out of the book and turns it around where it reads   
  
_E.L_  
Summer 1962   
Westchester  
by C.X.   
  
The photograph shows a relaxed Erik, sitting on a blanket, reading, a pair of shades on his nose.

“He looks so…. so young,” Peter comments.

“He must have been about your age now.”

“What did he read?”

“Most of it was in German, but I think we still have his collection in the library, Raven can help you find them if you want.”

“Nah, I’m not much of a reader,” Peter chuckles and Charles has to smile.

“This one is one of my favourites though,” he turns the page, “Erik Lehnsherr, coming home muddy. Crazy as he is, he liked to go running every morning. Now, the night before that picture was taken it had rained cats and dogs and the grounds in the forest were all muddy. Raven took this one when he came home.”

In the picture, a young, radiantly smiling Erik Lehnsherr, covered partially in mud, has one arm around someone’s neck, the other hand touching that someone’s chest.

“Is that you?” Peter asks and Charles nods.

“Raven wouldn’t let us into the house afterwards, so Hank gave us a shower under the garden hose.” Charles voice is calm full of joy; Peter can see the light in his eyes as he carefully touches the picture.

“Can I keep this until tomorrow?” Peter asks after a while, “I’ll take good care of it.”

“Yes, yes of course,” Charles replies, re-emerging from his thoughts, “let me know if you need any other explanations,” his voice is trembling a little at the thought of those long-forgotten memories.

Peter nods and Charles bids him goodnight, leaving the young man and the photo-album behind.

He is so close to tears he almost feels pathetic. Twenty years he has fought to keep that man out of his head, Charles won’t survive another twenty. His heart is beating fast in his chest as he reaches his bedroom, he is so angry at himself that he doesn’t call for Hank or Raven to help him into bed. Instead he somehow tries to manoeuvre himself onto his bed himself, not without turning the chair upside down and himself with it. It hits his hand and he curses loudly. As he is lies there on the ground, face down, his head hurts and he feels drained, broken. All because of Erik and always because of Erik. He will not cry over this, and he will not cry over that man, he tries to convince himself, but it takes him ten awfully long minutes to gather himself before he manages to push his body up and somehow makes it into his bed. There he remains, motionless. He doesn’t even pull up the blanket - it is too warm anyway.

The next time he opens his eyes it is completely dark and the fresh night air coming in from the open window has cooled down his room a little. Raven or Hank must have been there and opened it, one of them also must have put a blanket around him. For a moment his mind drifts to Erik again, his smell, clear voice and stinging laughter, but Charles is too much asleep to think clearly, so he slips into one of his twenty-year-old memories – the sunlit afternoon when he and Erik had sat outside on the grass, the mansion and the children far away, exchanging stories and smiles until the sun was setting on them and they had walked back silently, side by side, arms touching. It is that very thought of Erik’s side against his own that he falls asleep with again.

It is still early morning when he wakes up next. The sun is already rising and he can hear the birds as he sits up and looks around. His chair is standing upright again and Charles dearly hopes Raven or Hank won’t mention it to him when he meets them for breakfast, but then his glance falls on something even more unsettling.

“Erik?”

Right there, on the other side of the room Erik Lehnsherr is asleep in his armchair. Helmet, leather-jacket and shoes discarded in a pile on the floor, peacefully slumbering. Only at second glance Charles sees the dried blood on his forehead and the scratches on his arms. Suddenly he is alarmed.

“Erik,” he repeats, louder this time, “ERIK!”

Much to his relief the other man finally opens his eyes, disoriented, but quickly looking towards the bed. Charles feels something between fear and happiness reaching up all the way into his fingertips.

“You’re back,” he mouths and smiles as Erik stretches and gets up. He’s wearing a tight shirt and Charles can see his well-defined body underneath, it makes him blush.

“Sorry for crashing on your chair,” Erik moans, massaging his temples.

“What are you doing here? What’s with your face?” Charles worries and moves himself to the end of the bed.

“That’s nothing, what the heck did you do with your chair?” Erik sits down on the bed next to him.

As soon as he can reach him, Charles takes Erik’s face in his hands, examining his forehead, his heart pounding fast at the touch and the familiar smell of iron and something that is nothing else but Erik himself.

“That really doesn’t look good Erik, we need to clean that,” he whispers, suddenly aware of how close their faces are. Carefully, he traces the edges of Erik’s wound and feels the other man flinch.

“Just a scratch,” Erik mumbles and inhales deeply before he turns away, creating an uncomfortable space between them.

“What’s with the chair?” he repeats, “I thought you’ve gotten used to it.”

Charles huffs, but doesn’t answer and looks away.

Suddenly, Erik gets up and scrutinizes both the bed and the chair.

“How do you get into bed at all? It’s too high for you to reach.”

“I don’t,” Charles hisses, “Hank or Raven help me.” He hates how that sounds.

Erik lets out a long and loud breath before he buries his face in his palms. He seems tired and distraught, as if he hasn’t slept in days and he has to sit down on the bed again.

“Just let me fix you up Erik, you look terrible,” Charles quietly begs and touches Erik’s back. Only when he adds another “Please, Erik”, his opposite nods and fetches the first aid kit from Charles’ en-suit bathroom.

Charles cleans the wound on Erik’s head ever so carefully, disinfecting it first. He can feel Erik’s discomfort, he flinches under his touch as the alcohol stings, but he also feels Erik’s muscles relax as he places a hand on his back. Very suddenly, he has to fight back the urge to kiss Erik’s cheek and the corner of his mouth. It comes from so far deep inside him, it must have been there forever, and Charles knows it has. As he stops, stomach fluttering and hands slightly shaking, Erik turns his face to him.

Oh and he is so close, much too close. Charles wants nothing more than to lean in and kiss those lips, the lips of a man who has lost his wife and daughter mere weeks ago, who has done nothing (that is a lie) but hurt him his entire life. His eyes meet Erik’s and there is something in them, something Charles cannot identify, but the moment is over much too quick for him to draw any conclusions.

Erik gets up from the bed and looks at his face in the mirror. Charles has put a large patch over the wound on his forehead and disinfected the smaller scratches on the rest of his face and arms.

“Would you like to get a few more hours of sleep?” Charles tries.

“No,” Erik turns around, “I could do with some breakfast though.”

Charles grants him a smile and nods.

Without another word, Erik rolls the chair next to the bed.

“May I?” he asks tentatively, and Charles doesn’t know how to respond, not when he feels both like a child and an old man at the same time, pitied and thankful, hated an loved, but he nods and feels how Erik carefully lifts him up, one arm under his knees, the other one supporting his back and lowers him into the chair. His heart is fluttering again.

“Thank you,” is all he manages and he is rewarded with Erik’s first genuine smile of the day. That’s all he needs for now.

Later, after breakfast, when the entire house has learned that Erik Lehnsherr is having cream-cheese bagels in their kitchen, Erik goes down into the basement to fetch himself some tools. Charles leaves him be at first, leaves him some space, both because he isn’t sure about what to say and because Erik seems to be figuring something out with himself. Even though he is here now, he still seems to be a thousand miles away in his mind, as is if he has not fully arrived yet.

It’s not until the later afternoon that Jean knocks on his office door, looking slightly concerned.

“Professor, I think Mr. Lehnsherr is taking your bed apart…” she voices her concerns as Charles lets her in.

Erik is indeed. He has taken the mattress off the bed and turned the thing over. Tools lie scattered on the ground, as do various parts of wood that had once been the feet of Charles’ bed. Erik is already doing the fine-tuning on them when Charles and Jean disturb him.

“What are you doing?” Charles asks in surprise.

“You need to be able to get into your own bed at night,” Erik huffs as he sweats and smoothes down the now shortened feet of the bed.

The warm and golden feeling is back around Charles heart as he looks how Erik turns the bed around again, this time moving the iron in the frame mentally, and it’s much closer to the floor now, almost the exact same height as the chair.

“I’ll take care of that tomorrow,” he announces, “I’ll put a hinge in the armrest so you can move it up and roll into the bed.”

Charles doesn’t know what to say. He feels like ‘thank you’ would not even start to describe how wonderful he feels about the newly-gained freedom, autonomy and the fact that Erik has taken it into his own hands to bring it to him.

“You’re welcome,” Erik says and breathes in deeply.

Jean giggles before Charles notices that he must be heavily projecting.

Erik really fiddles with the chair the next morning even before Charles is awake. He’s slept in his old room, right across the floor from Charles and rolls the chair over into the corridor between them in the early morning hours. When Charles wakes up, Erik presents him with the result. It takes a view tries, but eventually Charles finds a way to manoeuvre himself into the chair all on his own.

“I know it’s not perfect…” Erik scratches himself and lets out a sigh, dissatisfied with his own skills.

“It’s …it’s great,” Charles returns with a beaming smile, before he offers the other man breakfast and a game of chess on the patio.

It takes a few days for Charles to get used to Erik being home. For a while, he goes to bed each night, more or less expecting Erik to be gone the next morning without another word or trace.   
But Erik doesn’t. Instead, he establishes a routine for himself, taking a long run around the estate at dawn, getting a shower afterwards and then having breakfast at the kitchen counter with Charles.

Peter is the only one that doesn’t join them occasionally, but somewhat avoids them whenever he can. Only after anpther week he sits down with them at the table one morning, slowly and mindfully eating some pancakes and watching them.

“Do you need help with something Peter?” Charles encourages him after a while of staring that Erik seems to be unaware of, reading his newspaper.

“I still have that album of yours, do you want it back?” Peter carefully asks.

“What album?” Erik turns to Charles.

“Peter wanted to see some of the pictures Raven took back in the sixties.”

“You must have found the clothes hilarious,” Erik grins, “Nina always laughed at what Magda wore back then,” he adds a little more silently.

“Was that your daughter?” Peter asks.

“Yes,” Erik nods.

Charles observes them for a while as they continue to mind their own businesses until he grows weary of it.

“Peter, I think Erik wanted to see if he can fix the fountain in the pond, don’t you want to help him?”

“I think I can do that on my-“

“No!” Peter interrupts, “I mean yes, I’d like to help if I can.”  
 He shrugs. Erik looks at him for a second before he shrugs too and agrees.

Charles later watches them in the garden as they get themselves wet standing knee-deep in the pond, tinkering with the mechanics of the spout that really doesn’t need any repairing at all – to be honest, Charles has never seen it work in all the years he has lived here, but he values Erik’s efforts. A day earlier, Raven jokingly suggested to him that Erik might simply be looking for justification to stay where he is. Charles has to smile at that, watching Erik settling in and making Westchester his home again makes him proud and utterly content.

As afternoon approaches, Jubilee and Kurt bring them homemade lemonade and brownies and soon everyone else joins them as they watch Peter and Erik fiddle with screws that just won’t turn and tools that fall into the water never to be seen again if it wasn’t for Erik. The little garden-party reaches its climax when finally the fountain comes on again, pumping and spitting water once set in motion. Everyone claps at Peter and Erik before Raven pushes first Jean and then Hank into the water. He drags her in after himself, before the rest of their party follows, starting a battle that gets them all soaked to the bone.

Charles watches them; laughing as they push one another under water and even Erik takes part in the wild water fight.   
Suddenly it dawns on Charles again: This is his family. This is the people he would give his life for, willingly and happily. As he takes in all of their joy, he catches Erik’s glance. There it is, the mischievous grin he likes, no, _loves_ so much.

“Don’t think you’re getting away with this Charles!” He yells and quickly comes out of the water, making long strides into Charles’s direction. The smile on his face is radiant.

“What are you doing?” Charles laughs as Erik lifts him out of the chair and somehow piggybacks him, carrying him into the water, telling him to hold on to his neck and shoulders. As his students soak him body and soul, Charles feels safe on Erik’s back, hanging on to the strong man carrying him and burying his face in his hair that smells oh so good. Erik never drops him and only moves carefully, allowing Charles to fight back his students, Hank and Raven until they are all freezing and make for the house, shivering but still laughing and jumping through the grass.

Erik doesn’t set him down when he climbs out of the pond. Instead, he pushes Charles up again so he can fasten his grip around Erik’s neck. He follows Raven and Peter silently as they push the chair to the patio. The sun is beautifully setting just then and Charles rests his forehead on Erik’s left shoulder, enjoying the warm beams of sunlight.

“Thank you,” he whispers and enjoys the warm breeze that is slowly arising as the day ends.

“You should have had that fountain fixed ages ago,” Erik returns.

Charles has to chuckle, “You know what I mean.”

Erik smiles and walks even more slowly, the others already so far away that their laughter and words have become one noise, indistinguishable and inseparable. Charles enjoys it as Erik keeps walking them through the remainders of sunlight on the lawn and his heart beats ever so slowly, relaxed and grateful. It is this very moment, when he is closely pressed to Erik’s back that he realizes how utterly and deeply he is in love with him and that there is no place in the world he’d rather be.

“Please don’t leave again,” Charles whispers, so full of happiness and content he worries his words might fail him.

“Your lawn needs mowing,” Erik mumbles before he carefully sets him down in the chair, and Charles hasn’t even yet realised that they are back at the house.

He looks perfect, all soaked and tired, worn out from the day in the water. He’s gotten colour again, something Charles hasn’t seen on him in since they had last lived here, but there is something in his eyes Charles can’t even begin to interpret. Something is troubling Erik. He gives Peter a pad on the shoulder “Good job kid,” before he turns around and walks back into the garden, into the direction of the pond.

 “Did you have a good day with your father?” Charles kindly asks, turning to Peter.

“He’s a good mechanic,” Peter nods and smiles.

“Have you considered telling him?” Charles carefully pushes and watches Peter fall silent, watching his father strolling through the gardens. Inside, Charles knows he isn’t getting an answer tonight.

He doesn’t see Erik for the rest of the evening and the next morning he is up and working so early, he doesn’t even join Charles for breakfast. As he goes on about his day, mostly reading and discussing the syllabus for the next term with Hank, Erik doesn’t seem to be taking a break at all. The noise of the mowing machine never stops, not even as the midday sun burns down on the estate.

“Is he going to mow the entire lawn by himself? Have we ever done that in one day?” Hank asks, staring out of the window, “One would think there’s enough metal in that thing for him to do it reading a book or whatever.”   
  
Charles has to chuckle at that, but only frowns a moment after, “he worries me Hank.”

“I’m sure he’s just found an outlet for his anger other than destroying things and killing people,” Hank returns sarcastically and turns away from the window.

For a moment, Charles considers sneaking into Erik’s mind. It bothers him not to know what troubles the other man, not to be able to help. Erik has his ways of dealing with his own trouble, ways that Charles had hoped they were done with. He wants him here by his side, body and mind. He can’t bear the thought of Erik leaving again anymore.

If he is honest with himself, he’s fallen in love with Erik long ago. He must have abandoned the idea along the way, when Erik hadn’t been around, when he had angered him, but just because the flame had gone out, that doesn’t mean the ashes weren’t glowing brightly always. And he is, about to catch fire again and go all up in flames.

He is in love with a man who is very apparently father of two children, which, for Charles, is proof of his disinterest in men enough, and it pains him even more how he is making a fool out of himself. They both deserve some peace after a lifetime of fighting and inflicting pain on each other, don’t they? And he wants Erik that find that peace here, where he is close, where he won’t go off again. No matter how hard it might be to have him around as a living reminder of his own, unrequited love – he simply can’t bear the thought of him leaving yet again.

“Charles?” Hank asks carefully.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “I was distracted.”

Charles is in the kitchen for dinner with Raven and Jean when they finally hear how the mower is turned off. Minutes later, heavy steps approach them and Erik enters the kitchen through the patio.

“You done?” Raven asks, spoon in mouth.

“You need a gardener,” Erik huffs, exhausted as he washes his hands and face in the sink.

“I’ve already got one,” Charles jokes and Erik makes a sarcastic sound before he looks into the pans.

“What are you having?”

“Pork Loins,” Jean answers and Erik snorts, looking at the food, but then closing the lid again.

“I’m sorry, I forgot,” Charles moans, “There’s still some potato soup in the fridge, we can heat it up for you.”

“Don’t bother, I’ll do it myself.”

Erik eats very late, after he’s showered and dried himself up. Charles finds him in the kitchen an hour before midnight, eating his soup and looking at the newspaper.

“Care for a game?” Charles quietly asks, a chessboard on his lap as he moves towards Erik.

 Erik first looks sceptically, but then he moves the newspaper and makes space for Charles to sit opposite him, setting up the chessboard.

“Thank you for taking care of the lawn today.”

“You are welcome,” Erik says and moves the pawn before his queen.

“You know, I meant what I said yesterday, I’d very much like for you to stay here. We- I could use a hand around the house and I’m sure Raven would value your input with the training,” Charles proposes after a while of playing silently.

“Would she though?” Erik chuckles and Charles lets out a long sigh.

“Would you at least try to be less sarcastic about this?” he whines and crosses his arms.

Erik looks up at him, not expecting backlash.

“I know you have been through a lot, but what is out there that draws you away from Westchester?” Charles asks.

“You mean away from you, so you can make sure I behave.”

“You know that’s not what I mean!” Charles retorts, “Erik, we are your family.”

“I had a family,” Erik hisses.

“And I know how hard it was to lose them, but –“

“But what Charles? Should I just replace them now? Like you did?” Erik interrupts him with a loud and stern voice, anger all over his face.

“Stop twisting the words in my mouth! Everyone has been nothing but kind to you since you’ve come back, and we all value your efforts!” Charles defends himself.

“I’m not your groundskeeper!” Erik yells.

Even though they have only played a few moves, Erik suddenly gets up and storms out of the kitchen, Charles, although slow because of the chair, right behind him as he walks into the living room, swinging the door shut with a fling of his hand.

It doesn’t shut Charles out of course.

“I really don’t understand your sudden outbursts, Erik, I never have!”

Erik is leaning against the mantel piece of the chimney with both of his hands, his back turned to Charles, silently staring down on the pictures.

It takes a while for him to speak.

“I’m betraying them, Charles, I’m betraying them when I’m here,” he silently confesses.

Charles closes the door behind him and slowly comes closer until he is next to Erik. The room is warm, warm as if someone had the fire one for the evening. The embers are still glowing.

“You’re not betraying anyone,” he whispers with a soft voice and tries to catch a glimpse of Erik’s face.

“I’m betraying them every time I look at you,” Erik doesn’t turn his head but stares into the fireplace.

Charles heart makes a little jump and his throat goes dry. He has reckoned with some, but nothing like that.

“Don’t you see? It’s been a few months and here I am,” he draws a long breath, “all moved on.”

For once in his life, Charles is speechless. He doesn’t know what to say.

“I don’t want to be the groundkeeper, because I want to be more to you than that, and by wanting that, I’m betraying the mother of my child,” he closes his eyes and Charles can sense that he is afraid to look at him.

Instead of words, he rolls just a little bit closer and tugs at Erik’s sleeve carefully guiding him down until he kneels and Charles can take him into his arms. He puts one hand on Erik’s back and the other one in his hair as he hears him crack and sniff. Soon his right shoulder is wet, but Erik keeps holding on to him and cries silently until he’s calmed down and leans his forehead against Charles’. Slowly, Charles’ hands wander to his face, one hand over each cheek and ear, quietly wiping salty tears away from underneath Erik’s eyes.

He isn’t quite sure how and when it happens, but it’s an eternity until Erik carefully places a kiss on his mouth. It’s much too short and unbelievably soft, but it’s soon followed by another, and then another and then another. It feels _so_ good. It feels like nothing he’s ever felt before, after twenty years of waiting – it might just be about time though. As he smiles into the kiss, he feels how tons drop from Erik’s shoulders.

 Erik carries him upstairs later and lies with him until the sun starts to rise. They rarely speak, but between tender kisses and touches there isn’t much space for conversation anyway. Erik drifts into sleep first, shirt half-open and arms wrapped around Charles.

“I love you too, you know,” Charles whispers before he closes his own eyes, and Erik smiles, placing one last kiss on Charles’ forehead.


End file.
